


unmentionable

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Laundromat, Author Magnus Bane, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Laundromat Dates, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Alec Lightwood, Secret Identity Fail, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: Magnus takes pity on him. “I didn’t catch your name, which puts me at a bit of a disadvantage here. Of course, I can just call you darling, if you prefer.”The woman on the phone beside him throws them a dirty look and wanders off to the other side of the laundromat.“Darling’s fine,” Alec mumbles, and then makes a wounded noise. “Alec. My name’s Alec.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, I don't know what this is! Just some sweetness, with a case of mistaken identity - sort of - and some not-date-dates. Hope you enjoy!

Alec’s always been a fan of Bane’s books. They’re his guilty pleasure, the kind he likes to furtively read in between rounds of washing at the laundromat, squashed into the uncomfortable plastic chairs with one headphone dangling out of his ear; the kind he likes to indulge in on a Sunday morning, after a bowl of cereal and before his third cup of coffee, while he’s studiously avoiding Izzy’s nosy texts about his non-existent love-life. He likes the quick, funny plots and the humorous dialogue, but most importantly, he likes the romance. The romance between _men_. 

It makes his stomach squirm and his chest feel warm, things he will deny with his dying breath if asked, not that anyone beside Jace and Izzy is likely to. He loves the fact that Bane writes about two men loving each other, going on dates in between fighting crime or foiling plots or going on journeys of self-discovery. He loves the tenderness, the passion, the fact that the stories rarely end in heartbreak, or tragedy, like so many books he’s read with gay couples in do. 

The point is, he’s in love with Bane’s books. So, when a new one comes out, Alec is first in line at the bookshop down the street, slyly placing the hardback novel on the counter and flushing at the cashier’s knowing look. 

“A fan of his, then?” the cashier asks lightly, ringing up his purchase. 

Alec thinks of the bookshelf above his bed entirely dedicated to Bane’s books, and shrugs. “I guess.” 

The cashier gives him a small smile and hands him his change, and Alec high-tails it out of the shop. He has to wait a total of three days before he can even think of opening the book, bogged down with work and chores and Izzy’s birthday party, which creeps up on him out of the blue. By the time he has a day off and a chance to read the book, it’s a Saturday, and he has three loads of laundry waiting for him in the bathroom. 

“Perfect,” he says, sighing harshly. He bundles everything up into a sports bag, grabs his book and heads towards the laundromat, cursing the fact that he doesn’t have a washer or a dryer yet. His apartment is still relatively new, decked out in only the simplest necessities. 

The laundromat is busy, considering it’s a Saturday morning, but Alec manages to find a chair and squeeze himself into it, his long legs tucked up uncomfortably. He forgot his earphones, which means he has to listen to the inane drivel of a woman talking on the phone beside him. He accidentally catches the eye of the man beside him, who gives him a commiserating look before getting up to check on his washing. Alec finds himself watching his ass as he walks, and sucks in a mortified breath when the man happens to glance back and catch him looking. 

He scrambles towards the nearest free machine when one pops up, loading his clothes in. When he turns back, the man he was staring at has shifted closer to Alec’s chair. Alec takes him in for a moment, curious. There’s no denying that he’s attractive. Alec’s seen him around here before, but he’s never actually spoken to him. He has this air of aloof charm, a mysteriousness to him that makes Alec want to pry. He’s well-dressed, well-spoken, and he – he’s looking right at Alec, who isn’t being even slightly subtle. 

The man throws him a wink, and Alec almost sprints out of the laundromat. Instead, he steels himself and sits back down in his seat, rigid and uncomfortable. He can hear the man stifle an amused sound, and it makes him even more rigid. 

“You know, you’ll get awful back-ache, sitting like that,” the man says, and Alec turns slightly, startled. The man proffers a hand and says, “Magnus.”

Alec has been told, many times, in many different ways, that he’s an awkward human being. He can be smooth when he needs to be, but when he’s taken by surprise, all his collected composure goes down the drain. Isabelle takes great joy in detailing all his social failures, and Jace sometimes acts out a few of his humiliating moments. Only because they love him, they assure him, but Alec suspects it’s simply because they want to see him suffer. Which is why he won’t be telling them that instead of shaking Magnus’s hand, the instructions get a little lost on the way from his brain to his arm, and Alec tangles their fingers together instead, holding his hand in mid-air. 

His mind blanks out, and he stares in horror at their entwined fingers. Magnus – the literal stranger that Alec is holding hands with in a crowded laundrette – looks a little bemused, and then a wide smile breaks over his face. 

“Why darling, how forward of you.” 

Alec recoils, and Magnus starts to laugh properly. It’s a wonderful sound, but Alec can’t appreciate it properly because he’s busy withering away on the inside in a mortified manner. Magnus shakes their hands a little awkwardly, due to the position, and then untangles their fingers. Alec immediately shoves his hands in his pockets, where they can only do minimal damage. 

“Sorry,” Alec says. “I was just—uh.”

Magnus takes pity on him. “I didn’t catch your name, which puts me at a bit of a disadvantage here. Of course, I can just call you darling, if you prefer.” 

The woman on the phone beside him throws them a dirty look and wanders off to the other side of the laundromat. 

“Darling’s fine,” Alec mumbles, and then makes a wounded noise. “Alec. My name’s Alec.”

“Lovely,” Magnus says, and it looks like he’s laughing at him, but it’s a kind sort of laughter. “You know, I have a spare book, if you wanted to read one. It can be a long, boring wait.”

“Oh,” Alec says, brightening up. “I actually have a book, but thanks.”

He draws out Bane’s latest book, Matchmaking, from inside the sports bag at his feet, and Magnus makes a small, strangled noise in the back of his throat. Alec glances over at his shocked expression and furrows his brow. 

“Something wrong?” He has a horrible moment of panic where he wonders if he purchased the wrong book, but when he glances down, the book has a deep burgundy cover with gold paisleys patterned all over it. There are no naked bodies entwined on the cover, no raunchy depictions of gay love. Bane is written up the side in glossy gold letters, but there’s nothing shocking about it. 

“Oh, no,” Magnus says. “Nothing. Sorry. You like his books, then?” 

Alec finds a genuine grin working his way onto his face. “I love them. Have you read any?” 

“A few,” Magnus admits, still looking a bit shell-shocked. He keeps glancing from the book to Alec’s face with a slightly panicked look, and Alec gets the feeling he wants to knock it out of his hands, or perhaps make a run for it. The conversation crawls to a halt, and Alec clears his throat and opens the book to the first page. 

He gets lost in the book quickly, barely noticing as people file in and out with bundles of clothes piled into their arms, wet and dry, clean and dirty. He does notice Magnus, who is pretty impossible to ignore, even when Alec is trying hard to immerse himself in a new world. He notices Magnus flipping through a magazine, chuckling as his polished fingernails slide over the glossy pages. He notices Magnus nibbling at a cereal bar, notices him shredding the label on his water bottle, notices him getting up to swap his clothes over to the dryer. 

He also notices every single anxious look that Magnus shoots at Alec and his book, and it makes him wonder. 

*

“That is not a happy face.”

Alec glances up, still frowning slightly, and catches Magnus’s gaze. He’s standing in the middle of the laundromat with a purple velvet bag slung over his shoulder, brimming with clothes. The clothes he’s wearing don’t look like the kind that can afford to be washed in a laundromat, of all places – they look like they need hand-washing. But Magnus is here, and there isn’t any other reason he would be in a laundromat on a Thursday evening, so Alec mentally shrugs the thought away and puts his book in his lap. 

“Do you not like the book?” Magnus asks lightly. Too light to be truly casual, and Alec wonders again what it is about this man and this book. 

“I do like the book. I love all of his books,” Alec says, frowning. “It’s just…”

“Yes?”

Alec flushes. He’s being ridiculous. “Never mind. Nothing. Did you need help with that?” 

He indicates Magnus’s bag with a jerk of his thumb, and Magnus’s frown melts into a warm smile. Alec’s heart lurches at the sight. 

“As sweet as that is, darling, I don’t think we’re quite at the point where you can handle my unmentionables,” Magnus says, with a wink.

“Maybe next week, then,” Alec says, even as a flush works its way up his cheeks. 

Magnus laughs delightedly. They talk quietly as Magnus separates his clothes into two separate loads, chatting about Alec’s family and Magnus’s job. Apparently, he owns a club not far from here, and he invites Alec to come and visit, even after Alec says that clubs aren’t really his scene. It’s impressive, though, considering Magnus isn’t that much older than Alec. 

“And you?” Magnus asks, and Alec has to explain that he works for his parents while he searches for something else to do. 

“Something that doesn’t drain the life out of me with every passing second,” he mutters, and Magnus laughs. Alec comes to the conclusion that he quite likes making Magnus laugh, and would happily continue making Magnus laugh for the rest of his life, which is quite a bold statement to make so soon, but Alec has always been pretty quick to develop crushes. It’s his one weakness, according to Izzy. That, and chocolate chip cookies. 

*

Alec knows he’s being stupid. There’s no way that a character in a published novel is based around him, but the problem is, that’s exactly what it feels like. 

Matchmaking has two main characters. The first is a striking, eccentric, brilliant man called Harry. He’s funny and witty, sweet and strong, cocky, but with a hint of vulnerability. Alec falls in love with him instantly. 

But then there’s the other character. Matthew. The love interest. 

There’s nothing special about Matthew, but he reminds Alec so strongly of himself that he’s having trouble reading about him. It’s not just that they sound identical in looks, but it’s also their personality. They’re both slightly awkward, but determined people, with blunt honesty and a serious nature, although the teasing starts when Matthew is around Harry. 

It’s weird. 

Alec’s never felt this kind of connection to a book character before, not this strongly. It’s not a big deal, not really, but it is curious, and distracting. So yeah, he knows he’s being stupid, but he can’t help but want to meet Bane even more now, to find out if they’ve ever bumped into each other in the street, if they’ve ever held a conversation in the coffee shop down the road. 

Because it feels like Bane knows him, and Alec can’t help but want to know him in return. 

*

He starts seeing Magnus at least once a week, sometimes twice. He always seems to be there when Alec’s there too, and although Alec is a little suspicious, mostly he just puts it down to good luck. 

*

Wine is not what he expected when he makes his way to the laundromat, but wine is exactly what he gets. Or, more specifically, he gets Magnus pushing a glass into his hand and filling it up from the bottle tucked into his bag, and then taking a sip of his own drink. 

“It’s been a bit of a long day,” Magnus explains, when Alec raises an eyebrow at him. “I could do with a drink and some good company.”

“You planned this.”

“You’re always here on a Saturday evening,” Magnus says apologetically. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind my company.”

“I never mind your company,” Alec says, taking a sip of his wine. Not too bitter, but still not his favourite drink. He’s never been particularly fond of alcohol, but he’ll make an exception if it’s Magnus who’s offering. “Do you even have any washing?”

“Not a single sock,” Magnus says, and Alec laughs, taking another sip. 

The laundromat is thankfully empty. Even the owner is dozing fitfully behind the little glass window near the entrance, head pillowed on a booking sheet, drool gathering at the corner of his mouth. Magnus creeps closer and gently eases the blind down over his window, blocking out the owner’s view of the laundromat, should he wake up. Alec stifles a laugh against his fist and collapses into a chair. Magnus joins him a moment later, wine glass held aloft, already half-empty. 

“Aren’t you going to do your washing?” Magnus asks, and Alec pulls a face. He’s not particularly looking forward to separating his laundry, which is all in a mess inside his bag. 

“In a minute,” Alec says, sprawling back against the chair, legs thrown out haphazardly. Magnus surprises him by curling up into a little ball, legs tucked up under him. “Tell me about your bad day.”

Magnus sighs heavily. “Not bad, exactly, just long. I’ve got deadlines coming up, so technically I should be holed up in my office right now, typing away.”

Alec hums, takes a sip of his wine, and then frowns. “Wait a minute. I thought you owned a club?”

Magnus freezes, glass of wine halfway to his lips, and then laughs nervously. “I do. I own Pandemonium, but I also do a few other things on the side.”

The wine must have gone to his head; that’s the only reason why Alec would blurt out, “That sounds dodgy,” in a serious tone of voice. Magnus chokes on his drink, spluttering, and shoots Alec an incredulous look before he starts to laugh. 

“What exactly are you implying, Alexander?”

Alec flushes. “Let’s change the subject, please, before I accidentally insult you any more than I already have.”

Magnus takes pity on him. “Did you bring your usual reading material?”

His face is bland, casual, but his tone is slightly nervous. Alec still doesn’t quite understand Magnus’s obsession with this book, but it can’t be any worse than Alec’s, so he lets it go. Perhaps he’s just a fan, and doesn’t want to see anyone take a dislike to his favourite author’s works. 

“It’s in there.” Alec nudges his bag with his foot. 

“How are you finding it?” Magnus looks extremely nervous now. Definitely a fan. 

“I love it,” Alec says reverently. “I love the pacing, the plot, the writing style. The only problem I’m having is with the characters.” 

Magnus freezes. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Alec frowns. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’m still enjoying it.” 

Magnus obviously decides not to press, because he simply taps his foot against Alec’s thigh and indicates his washing with his free hand. 

“We should probably wash your clothes, before the laundromat decides to close. It’s pretty late already.”

Alec groans. He feels a little loose-limbed and heavy, tired from the week and giddy with the wine that always goes straight to his head. 

Magnus laughs. “It’s not all bad, darling. Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”

“Definitely not all bad, then,” Alec murmurs, watching Magnus clamber gracefully out of his chair and stretch. Magnus shoots him an amused look and sets his wine glass down, neatly plucking Alec’s out of his hands and placing it on the floor. 

“Is this it, then?” Alec asks, and Magnus pauses, glancing up to frown at Alec. 

“Is what it?”

Alec adopts a solemn expression, letting the concerned silence stretch for a moment before saying, “Are we finally at the point where we can handle each other’s unmentionables?”

Magnus’s laugh actually wakes up the owner, who gives a great shout when he notices his blind is down, and starts ranting and raving about youths and insolent people. They glance at each other, wide-eyed, and then the both of them gather up their belongings and race out of the laundromat as quickly as possible, laughing breathlessly. 

They forget the wine glasses, and Alec’s going to have dirty clothes for the next few days, but he can’t help but think that it was worth it, to hear Magnus laugh like that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You look like you did when that ninety-year-old woman propositioned you at the station,” Izzy says. “Mostly scandalised, and a little bit like you wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and die. Except this time, I sense a little bit of intrigue.”
> 
> Alec refuses to reply to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Thank you for the lovely response to the last chapter! Whoever came to me on anon on tumblr basically got me off my ass, and I wrote this bit. I hope it's okay, and I hope you enjoy it. I may write another chapter, but I've marked it as complete for now. And I know this is a weird time to post, but I won't be able to post later, so. Enjoy!

Alec doesn’t see Magnus for a few weeks, and he starts to worry. He doesn’t drop into the Laundromat just to see Alec, doesn’t turn up to wash his clothes, and it strikes Alec as silly that they’ve been meeting this way for so long with only the Laundromat between them. He doesn’t have Magnus’s phone number, or his address, or any way to contact him, really, and when the second week draws to a close and the third one begins, with still no sign of Magnus, Alec starts to get the horrible feeling that he’s done something wrong, that maybe Magnus hasn’t come back because of him. 

When Magnus does come back, it’s not his usual dignified entrance. He bursts through the doors to the laundromat, wincing apologetically when the owner glares at him from behind the screen. Alec whips his head up and grins, wide and relieved, at the sight of Magnus standing there, looking distinctly ruffled. His hair is in disarray and his clothes are oddly rumpled, and Alec starts to frown, until Magnus’s eyes find him and light up. 

“Alexander,” he says, hurrying over and squeezing himself into the space between Alec and a red-haired man, who’s blatantly listening in to their conversation. “I owe you an apology.”

Alec jumps in surprise, turning to face him. “I’m pretty sure you don’t. Are you alright? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Magnus grimaces, smoothing a hand over his hair. “And that’s what I wanted to apologise for. I meant to drop by here and tell you that I’d be out of town for a little while, but I was waylaid by a few friends who bundled me into a car before I could escape. Apparently, I have a habit of avoiding things like meetings and appointments, and they no longer trust me not to hatch an elaborate break-out plan.”

He sounds extremely disgruntled. Alec bites his lip to hide a grin, but Magnus catches it anyway, narrowing his eyes playfully. 

“Listen here, Lightwood, I don’t appreciate you taking my friends’ side in this.”

“I’m sorry,” Alec says, still grinning. “So, what kept you away? I thought maybe I’d done something.”

He tries to say it jokingly, but something must catch in his voice, because Magnus’s expression softens slightly. 

“Of course not, darling. And it was just boring work stuff, nothing very interesting.”

Alec gets the sense that Magnus isn’t quite telling the truth, from the way he keeps his hands still. He’s always very vocal with his body, so to see him stiff and unmoving makes Alec think he’s hiding something. Still, it’s not really his place to pry – they aren’t really anything other than acquaintances turned recent friends, although that’s not how Alec feels about it all. 

“You know,” Alec says slowly. “We could easily avoid something like this happening again.”

Magnus cocks his head to the side slightly. “How so?”

The man behind Magnus is still listening in, head tipped towards them. It’s made obvious by the fact that his biro hasn’t inched across the crossword in front of him since Magnus walked inside. Alec gets slightly distracted, glaring at the back of the man’s head, and Magnus takes the opportunity to answer his own question. 

“I suppose we could always just send carrier pigeons to each other.”

Alec starts to frown in confusion until he notices the teasing glint in Magnus’s eye. 

“Ha,” he says drily. 

The man not doing the crossword snorts, before muttering, “Just ask him out, already, lad.”

Alec feels his face heat up as Magnus cranes his neck around, startled, to see who spoke. He steels himself, gathering his nerve and squares his shoulders. 

“D’you want my number?” Alec blurts out. Magnus whips around, a bright smile lighting up his face. Alec feels himself grow warm in the face of all that fondness, and he clears his throat. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I thought, it might be nice. To be able to call, you know? Or text. Whichever’s easiest. But you don’t have to say yes, obviously. Oh hell.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, cursing his inability to form proper sentences around this man. Magnus laughs lightly, sweetly, and then a hand is around his wrist, tugging it away from his face. Magnus keeps a gentle grip on his wrist as he fishes out his phone with his other hand. 

“Alexander, darling, don’t hurt yourself. I’d be delighted.” 

*

Magnus, Alec discovers, is a very proficient texter. Alec receives dozens of texts throughout the day, topics ranging from the lack of milk in his house, to the ignorance of everyday people surrounding subjects such as gender and sexuality. 

He also flirts _outrageously_. Alec’s finding it kind of hard to keep up with all the innuendo’s, and some of them are so lewd that he finds himself staring at the little screen, blushing to the tips of his ears, while Izzy stirs her coffee and watches him thoughtfully. 

“You look like you did when that ninety-year-old woman propositioned you at the station,” Izzy says. “Mostly scandalised, and a little bit like you wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and die. Except this time, I sense a little bit of intrigue.”

Alec refuses to reply to that. Instead, he flips the phone around and shows Izzy the screen, and she leans forward over the table, both eyebrows raising as she reads the little words that have Alec’s stomach doing flips. 

“That,” Izzy says, “is the filthiest pun I have ever seen in my life. I don’t know this person, but I’m proud of them.”

“This isn’t the first one,” Alec mutters, cradling the phone close as a waitress bustles past. “What do I do? Do I send one back?”

“Do you want to send one back?” Izzy counters, looking slightly surprised. “Who is this guy anyway?”

“His name’s Magnus, I met him a few months ago,” Alec explains. “I asked for his number the other week, and we’ve been texting ever since.”

Izzy presses a hand against her chest and collapses dramatically against the seat. “My brother? Asking for someone’s number? Texting for something that isn’t an emergency? You must really like him.”

Alec puts the phone face down on the table and pulls his mug towards him, ignoring the question. Of course, ignoring something has never really worked when it comes to Izzy. Her mouth drops a little, and then tilts up into a warm smile. 

“You like him,” Izzy says softly. “Alec, this is a good thing.”

“It’s only a good thing if it ends well,” Alec warns her, and she scoffs at him. 

“That’s ridiculous and untrue. Have you replied to any of his texts?”

“Yeah, just not the…dirty ones,” Alec says, lowering his voice to a whisper and shooting the waitress a pained smile as she passes again. Izzy doesn’t bother to stifle her laughter, giggling outright at his expression. The phone buzzes, and she snatches it off the table before he can grab it, typing in his password and opening it up. 

“Since when do you know my password?” Alec demands. 

“Since you were seven and you wanted to hide that diary of yours in the little safe. You always use the same password for everything, the same four numbers. It’s not exactly difficult.”

Alec sulks while she reads the message, and then she clears her throat and pushes the phone across the sugar-speckled surface, arching an eyebrow when Alec doesn’t immediately take it. 

“I’m going to get a pastry, and you’re going to answer that man,” Izzy declares, standing up and brushing her hair aside as she saunters up to the counter. Alec watches her go in disbelief, and then slowly picks up the phone, turning it over. 

_Am I making you uncomfortable?_

Alec smiles down at the screen and quickly taps out a reply. 

_You could never make me uncomfortable._

_Shy, then?_

Alec snorts, glances up at Izzy. She wouldn’t call him shy. Reserved, maybe, but not shy. 

_No. Just not as dirty-minded as you, let’s say._

_Darling, no one is as dirty-minded as me. It’s a skill I’ve honed over the years._

*

Alec has his head inside the washing machine when Magnus walks into the laundromat, so Alec doesn’t see him at first. He’s busy fishing out the red sock from all his whites and wondering when he even bought a red sock. He picks up a shirt – once white, now dyed a baby pink colour, and grimaces in dismay. 

“Problem, love?” 

Alec startles slightly, clutching the shirt close to his chest, and then lets the tension roll away when he spots Magnus standing nearby. Alec holds up the shirt, and then plunges a hand into the machine and withdraws a wet, pink towel. 

“It’s not that I don’t like pink,” Alec says, deadpan. “It’s just that I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to go to work looking like something you sprinkled on a unicorn hot chocolate.”

“I _love_ that you know what those are,” Magnus says, and then he starts to laugh, coming closer to rub his hand over Alec’s arm in soft, soothing motions. “It’s not all bad. Perhaps you can host a pastel party?”

“Do I look like the type to host a pastel party?” 

Magnus bites his lip against another wave of laughter. Alec glares at him, playfully brandishing the wet towel, and Magnus bats him away. 

“Look, we’ll stop by a store on our way out of here and pick you up some new things. I, personally, don’t see anything wrong with injecting a little colour into your wardrobe, but maybe this is a little too much too soon.” 

Alec glances down at himself. “What’s wrong with my wardrobe?”

“Nothing at all. Come on, let’s get this into the dryer so I can steal your machine.”

“I’m wearing blue socks,” Alec argues, letting himself be towed away. 

Magnus glances down, at the little slip of sock visible where his jeans have rolled up. “Navy blue, darling. Barely a colour.”

Alec grumbles a little as he’s pushed into a chair, and his sopping wet laundry is zipped up tight in his bag and tucked under the seat while Magnus does his own laundry. Alec busies himself with his book – he’s only got a chapter left, and he’s loathe for it to end, but at the same time, he wants to see how the author is going to wrap this up. It seems impossible for everything to get resolved in so few pages, but Alec has faith. 

Still, if there’s a cliff-hanger, he’s going to riot. 

He finds it kind of hard to concentrate with Magnus so close by, though. Texts aren’t really enough; he likes being with Magnus, watching him hum and sway his hips as he fiddles with the detergent, and he likes the way he laughs and smiles and the careful, clever way he talks. He likes a lot about Magnus. It’s a little terrifying, how fast Alec is falling. 

He peers over the top of the book as Magnus dusts off his hands and swivels the dial on the machine. He catches the exact moment that Magnus catches sight of the cover of his book – his expression becomes nervous, almost fearful. 

The book goes back in his bag. Alec only has a chapter left, but he’s much rather spend his time with Magnus. 

*

“You finished it, then?”

Alec is frowning at the closed book when Magnus appears, settling into the chair beside him. He reaches over and brushes an errant lock of hair out of Alec’s eyes, and Alec smiles distractedly at him. 

“I finished it,” he confirms. “I loved it, as usual, but there’s just this one thing that I can’t get out of my head.”

Magnus furrows his brow. “What’s that, love?”

“I think I’m going insane,” Alec says flatly. “The main character, the dark-haired guy – it’s going to sound really big-headed, but I swear he looks and acts and sounds just like me. And the other main character, the love interest, he’s really familiar too, but I can’t put my finger on it. There’s just something about it that strikes me as familiar.”

Magnus actually cringes back slightly, and Alec stares at him in surprise. Maybe it’s embarrassing, or boring, hearing Alec talk about the book so much? He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t like the look on Magnus’s face. 

“I’m being stupid.” Alec laughs, feeling slightly silly. “I think I’m just reading into things.”

After a moment, Magnus sighs. He flutters one hand gracefully at Alec, and then reaches up to nervously touch his hair. Another sigh, and then, “Check the dedication, sweetheart.”

Alec frowns. When Magnus doesn’t say anything, he cautiously lifts the book and flips through to the front, his bookmark slipping to the floor. Magnus picks it up and busies himself with combing through the threads on the tassel, carefully avoiding Alec’s gaze. It’s so at odds with his usual confident appearance that it takes Alec back. Magnus is vulnerable, often, but he never truly looks it. His mask is flawless, and yet now it’s down for Alec to see. 

The dedication is simple, printed in black ink on creamy white paper. 

For the beautiful man in the laundromat, whose name I do not know, but whom I feel have met before. 

Alec looks up, stunned silent. 

“No, you weren’t reading into things. I may have drawn a little inspiration from the beautiful man I saw often at the laundromat,” Magnus admits, after a short pause. “I never actually thought you would read these books.”

“Your books,” Alec says, still stunned.

“My books,” Magnus agrees. “I do own a club, of course, but I write on the side. I’ve been writing for a few years, now. My friend, Catarina, is in the publishing industry, and she found some of my work and insisted that I polish it up and send it in, so I did. And now, well, here we are.”

Alec doesn’t say anything. He just sits in shocked silence, glancing from the book, back up to Magnus, and wondering what kind of alternate dimension he’s entered. 

“Alexander?” Magnus peers at him nervously. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Alec asks quietly. He’s not mad, just confused. 

Magnus rests a hand gently on Alec’s leg, sighing. “At first, I didn’t know you at all. I didn’t think you would read them, so I figured you wouldn’t find out I used you for inspiration. And then, after I realised you did read them, I was a little afraid that you wouldn’t believe me, and rather worried you might turn out to be a bit of a crazy fan, if you did. I’ve never told anyone other than my three closest friends about any of this.”

Alec chews his lip, thinking it over. It makes sense, and he can’t be angry that Magnus lied to him. He obviously has a pen name for a reason, to keep him safe and out of the limelight, and it makes sense for him to keep his identity a secret from the idiot who gushes over his books on a daily basis. 

“I—I suppose I wanted you to like me because I was me, rather than because I was your favourite author.” Magnus moves to withdraw his hand, and Alec catches it before he can, resting it back on his leg and squeezing his fingers gently. 

“I never said you were my favourite author,” Alec says, smiling softly at Magnus’s wide-eyed look. “And I understand. I’m still glad you told me, because now I can stop humiliating myself by going on and on about how great these books are, but I understand why you didn’t tell me at first.”

There’s a glint in Magnus’s eye that Alec both loves and fears. “Please, Alexander, never stop gushing about my books. It’s quite flattering, and I won’t lie – it’s pushed me to reach a deadline once or twice. You’re quite vocal about your appreciation. I only hope that translates to other areas of your life.”

Alec flushes, grins, and winks. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

“I think it’ll be worth the wait.”

Magnus leans in and kisses him deeply, and Alec completely ignores the slightly mocking cheer from the woman beside them in favour of pushing his hands into Magnus’s hair, tugging slightly and kissing him back. His mouth is warm and tastes like fruity chap-stick, and there’s heat pooling in Alec’s chest. Magnus swipes his tongue along Alec’s bottom lip, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat.

He leans back to breathe, sucking in air and staring at Magnus, wide-eyed. He doesn’t know if he’s talking about the kiss or the book when he speaks. 

“There better be a sequel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much! I really hope you liked it. Please leave a comment/kudos if you did and let me know what you thought, and come say hey @thealmostrhetoricalquestion. Love you all! Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed and come say hey @thealmostrhetoricalquestion on tumblr, I'd love to hear from you. Thank you!


End file.
